The Bird with the Broken Wing
This bird had an accident. He crashed into another bird. Both thought then, that it’s just a few ruffled feathers — not much to think about, happens every other day — and then went on their own way. But as the days rolled on, our bird discovered this undercurrent of pain in his flight. He tried discussing it with his mates when he went home. They didn’t seem to understand. “You’re still flying” they said, “You’ll be fine. Father Time heals all”.
Our bird decided, maybe at a higher altitude, he’ll be ok. So he took off and reached up there. Gliding his way to the heavens, he was comfortable. He finally felt complete. All of a sudden, he felt a pang and fell down a few notches. “Must be something wrong with what I did”, and without giving it another thought, with some extra effort, aimed for the skies another time. He rose above everything yet again.
But the pain never really went away. He would forget it from time to time, having fun games with other birds on the same altitude and making a new home higher up every time he felt uncomfortable. He tried talking to other birds, telling them about his dissatisfaction. They always quipped back in the same way, “You’re flying higher than ever before. How is that ever possible with a broken wing? Here, Let’s have a drink together. It will numb whatever you’re feeling and eventually it will just go away. Father Time heals all.”
As a last resort, he tried finding the bird he had crashed into. Maybe, the other bird is healed and he’ll tell me the secret. He looked everywhere in the blues desperately, trying to remember what the other one looked like. After a lot of effort, he finally found him.
“How are you doing?”, he asked.
“I’m fine, thank you. Do I know you from somewhere?”, confused, the other one asked.
“Yes, I’m the one you were in an accident with a while ago. Remember, we were dazed for a minute, and then carried on?”
“Oh, yeah”, came the reply, “It wasn’t really an accident. It was a small crash. I was flustered for sometime but then was alright.”
“What!? Am I only one suffering in the whole wide world then? You don’t have a broken wing either?”
“No. But tell me about it. I have heard of such stories before.”
“See, when I fly — “
“Hey, Can we talk later? I’m busy with other things right now.”
“Oh, okay. I’m really hurt here. But fine we’ll talk later.”
They never met again.
Our bird still searches for a safe haven he can find. Happiness and satisfaction is a distant, fleeting, ephemeral dream he chases and when he reaches the point, he discovers it was a mirage, and there wasn’t really anything there. The only time he really forgets about it for a moment is when he flies.
Keep flying, old friend, is all we can wish for him. Birds like you never find their nest.
